


Case Files

by torrentialTriages



Category: Welcome to the MSO
Genre: F/M, Literally everyone - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Therapy Meetings, its awful. everyone is awful, ok thats a lie i didnt include the secretary because im nice, there wasnt any mention or implication of max/richard so even tho its canon theres no tag, you know im dedicated bc i list everyone in order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 09:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5622688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrentialTriages/pseuds/torrentialTriages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rudolph suffers.</p><p>Written for Rudolph's birthday (Jan. 3)!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Case Files

**Author's Note:**

> i show my love for rudolph by making him suffer rip
> 
> im also flattered that the tag wranglers think the mso is my original work but no. its not mine im just the illustrator

Rudolph thinks it's better to let Alan rant it out, but honestly as Alan just gets more convoluted and pissed off, he has no earthly idea what the other man is now yelling about. It was something about the younger Harpers, he thinks, and now he's ranting about child support and Morocco, maybe, but he's not entirely sure? He's been trying his best to keep track, but he is honestly very, very lost.

It's going to be a long day, he thinks, not for the first time.

\--

"Look, what do you want me to do about it?" Abraham asks testily, gripping the chair arms. "So what if we're family? I'm not apologizing to him, he's always bitching about something or other."

"Um... you... could try telling him to be reasonable?" Abe scoffs. "Or try talking about it in a place where you guys find it harder to lose your temper?" Abe scoffs even harder.

"I'm not dragging Alan to the mosque for a reason like that. That's more Eli's schtick."

"Then... why not get Eli to help?"

Abe starts laughing. And keeps laughing for a good two minutes straight.

\--

"Oh man, Altai taught me how to con people this Tuesday," Eli gushes, and Rudolph fears he's going to have to call the police on at least one Harper boy. It's a shame, he thinks plaintively. He likes Eli. He _likes_ Alan. Sure, he likes Abe too, he guesses. But Altai Khan scares him half to death sometimes, and he's really, _really_ sure that conning people is illegal?

"I mean, it's illegal, sure, I'm pretty sure!" _Oh, man_ , whimpers Rudolph's inner monologue, going up an octave out of stress. "But like, it was really fun to make sh- stuff up?"

"Have you considered... writing? Or any career that requires imagining stories?"

Eli's face falls. "I haven't finished high school."

Rudolph suddenly feels very, very bad for asking.

\--

"Rudolph," Hyun says eventually, flatly, morosely, staring out the small window in Rudolph's humble abode. It is winter in New York, dreary skies seeming more a platitude than any real comfort. "I don't think this is working."

Rudolph, secretly, doesn't either. But he offers Hyun the brightest smile he can, and a cup of tea. The tea somehow manages to be weaker than Rudolph's optimism, but Hyun cradles the chipped mug in his pale dry hands anyway. He seems grateful for that, at least, and Rudolph starts to feel better himself.

\--

"Rudolph, listen to me, this should be _illegal_! Hyun is not allowed to be this hot! He's too hot!" Jess paces the room, despite her insistences that 'Vaughns don't lose their cool'.

 _Hot damn,_ says some inner voice that sounds much more like Sakura or one of the Violin Twins than anything Rudolph could muster. He offers a weak smile. "I... don't think I can help you there, I'm sorry..."

" _Then what use are you?!_ Listen, I almost lost my cue because he didn't come in on-" Rudolph sinks lower in his chair and pretends to make notes. Jess is like Alan, he thinks, as Jess runs her hands through her hair and reaches pitches dogs (or Eli) would get excited about. They both need to vent about it.

\--

Maximilian Vaughn, on the other hand, is a fortress with nary a single perfectly coiffed hair on his head astray.

"I have no problems whatsoever," Max insists, crossing an ankle over his leg and steepling his fingers in his lap. "Other people are being the problem, barging into the house at midnight after doing God knows what kind of illegal shit."

Rudolph is, despite himself, intrigued. "Who... barged in? How'd they even get there?"

"Uh, Jerome and... that cello girl. Altai, I think it was? Jess let them in, of course, because she doesn't have any control in her life or herself."

 _No, she does not,_ Rudolph agrees. "Go on." He's interested, as long as Max's scathing tongue isn't trying to burn him.

\--

Rudolph finds it kind of funny that Richard Fontaine has an English given name, for a French guy. However, he does not bring that up. Richard seems much more preoccupied with complaining about a passing snub Altai threw at him, comparing him to a Degas painting. Rudolph doesn't personally see the insult. He likes Degas' primary focus on nice, nonviolent scenes, with nice, nonviolent colors. But Richard seems to have taken grave offense, so Rudolph tries to do his best to offer a listening ear and some support.

\--

He tries not to wither up inside as Altai describes her latest escapades. He fails.

Sometimes he regrets his career choice very much and would like to move somewhere where his patients (Clients? Friends? Ha ha) don't routinely make him scared of everything. Or maybe he's doing it to himself.

In any case, he tells his pressed flowers telepathically, he will be a very happy man once the next seventeen minutes end.

\--

"She... offered me a Ferrari," Jerome says weakly for the third time that hour, this time after complaining about how one of his older brothers (was he really named Gloves? _Gloves Clarkson?_ What the heck) hated him. "Like it was nothing. Does she _know_ how much a Ferrari costs?" That seems rhetorical, considering the fact that Altai seems to carry herself like she owns the world. From what Rudolph keeps hearing about her family, she might as well own the galaxy.

"What did you say to her after she asked?" Rudolph finally asks, curiosity about the turn of events getting to him.

Jerome presses a freckled hand to his freckled face and half-turns away. "I said 'do you know how much that costs'," he admits, mumbling into his palm, "And then I asked for a red one. With leather seats."

\--

Xavier Wolff actually does have problems, but Rudolph isn't... sure how to help.

Xavier fidgets with his lip ring during the whole half hour (where'd he get a lip ring? Or did he have one the whole time?), even as he talks, bordering on agitated at times. Rudolph imagines getting a lip piercing and briefly mentally shuts down.

All in all, when they're done he feels like he's made some progress with Xavier, which is much more than can be said for the rest of them.

\--

Zachary Wolff intimidates Rudolph more than his "bad boy" brother. It has to be the way Zach cheerfully talks about how Kazuko dropped off the rafters of the rehearsal room and plummeted a few feet before Takeda caught him by the ankle. Zach talks as if Kazuko had merely tripped over his own shoelace (which would never happen), and frankly that just makes Rudolph feel like he's going to faint.

It's still better than Xavier's panicked "The ladies hate me, don't they" rhetoric, though. Rudolph likes having labels for his problems.

\--

"Like, for real, Altai's been trying to trick me and Tony into thinking _beavers_ or some shit are _real?_ " Joseph Hudson gesticulates wildly, animated as always. Rudolph frowns.

"But... they are real?"

"You're _shitting_ me," insists Joseph, getting up to walk around. "There's _no way_. Someone made that up."

"Actually, they did." Rudolph shuffles his notes. "Canada was founded because people hunted beavers."

\--

"No, that can't be true," Anthony Hudson says slowly, rubbing his thumb across his philtrum, brow slightly furrowed. "There's no way those exist."

"But, but they do," says Rudolph weakly.

Tony's frown grows deeper. "There's no way. It'd be like the government coming together and being like, 'By the way, cars don't exist anymore'. Even though they're right there, y'know, like, even though I've been working on cars a long time, you know?"

\--

"A-and how does that make you feel?"

"Honestly?" Kazuko asks. Rudolph tries to smile without looking like his face will break.

"It just makes us wanna punch you in the face," Takeda volunteers, and Kazuko nods in agreement, sitting back on the chair arm and resting his hands behind his head. The Shuns are an united front of torment, and Rudolph just... decides to let this session slide. Forever.

"O-oh... Okay?"

\--

"It's cool, my man," drawls Ichiro Yamada, serene and as happy as a clam. "How's it hanging for you?"

"Not so great," Rudolph admits with a sigh, "But I just have to check out you, Sakura, and Martin and then I'll be done!"

Ichiro stiffens.

"Um... did I say something wrong?" Rudolph inquires timidly.

"No. Maybe." Ichiro sighs deeply. "I'm just very bitter about that English boy, you know..."

"Um... No," Rudolph says after a silence. "I don't know." There's a lot he doesn't know.

At the end of the session, there's so much he now knows about Sakura Yamada, but also _so_ so much more that he really, really doesn't.

\--

"How did you get those burns on your hands, if you don't mind me asking?"

Sakura tells him matter-of-factly. He regrets it. It makes her seem a lot more hardcore and _terrifying_ than her black-on-black wardrobe and her whimsical attitude normally makes him feel. He wonders again whether he should call Ichiro back in just for the emotional support in talking to his sister, then decides he can weather it. It should be okay.

\--

Rudolph almost sobs in relief when he gets to Martin, seemingly the most normal of the orchestra.

The questions are normal enough, and Martin responds normally enough, to which Rudolph almost gets down on his knees then and there to praise the Heavenly Powers That Be. Then they get the the part where Rudolph offers, "Is there anything you feel irritation or anger about lately?", and Martin actually sits up straighter in his chair, cracking his knuckles. Rudolph winces- no, cringes- at the renewed interest and the sound.

Martin Argent is more surgical in his wording than he had ever been taught to be with a scalpel in a med school lecture, and Rudolph can feel his eternal patience stretching far beyond what he is prepared to deal with. He's not ready to start crying for no discernible reason in front of his conductor, who, coincidentally, is complaining about his duties as the conductor when his orchestra _can't get along worth a damn_. Which, Rudolph wants to state for the record, is absolutely not his fault. If anything, ganging up on him seems to be the best team bonding exercise the orchestra has apart from wreaking havoc on towns.

He hunches over in his chair and resolves to tune Martin out.

\--

After Martin has flounced out the door, Rudolph looks down at his poor, poor mangled notepad and flips through it dejectedly. There are notes, yes, but there is mostly doodles, and idle musings, and scribbles, and oh goodness that was a very good drawing of a clock. He likes that drawing, actually. He feels more sense of pride in himself about that clock than he does about getting through all the appointments scheduled to get to know his orchestra members more, and sighs deeply once he realizes that.

Tea time, he decides. There's no way tea can go wrong.


End file.
